Chapter 27: Stranger
"Genesis caused me to wake up suddenly," Gray replied absentmindedly.
"What did you see?" Casanova immediately asked.
"The dream didn't depict anything serious, nor scary, this time. There, I…met my mother."
He began on explaining of how he could see her clearly, without any amalgamation of shadows clouding her appearance. Gray talked of how they went through their daily life, and how in the midst of it, he felt the compulsion to check his right hand, doing the reality check the man had taught him.
With a slight hint of embarrassment, he said that his mother interrupted him, breaking his feeble lucidity towards the abstract, fictitious world.
"Since it was my first day of school, the teachers were explaining the location of their facilities. Once they were done, we went outside to look at the flowers. There, my mother taught me about a specific bell-like flower, called foxglove."
"As we saw a bunch of small insects crawl from its insides, she taught me about them too. I would come to learn that they were pests, and that they were possibly going to eat the flower."
"When I thought that, however, it pained my heart."
"So, when she wasn't looking, I killed them."
"When I woke up, I tried to use Intra; but in the realm of my memories, I noticed that my dream didn't belong there. It might be hidden within the amalgamation of shadows, however."
The man stayed silent—only the static sound reverberated in Gray's ears.
"Interesting…" Casanova replied after a couple of seconds.
"Did you get rid of those insects just because they were pests, or are there other reasons behind it?"
Gray nodded.
"The flower was…beautiful—I-I didn't want them to tarnish it. My mother said it was possible that they were just living there and not planning on harming it, but I just didn't want to take my chances, you know?"
"I see."
"The meaning hidden behind your dream—behind your ability, Genesis, is now clear," Casanova replied with a solemn voice.
"That flower you've seen—that foxglove—might be the a subconscious representation of your sister, Kathy. Your actions in the dream may reflect on what you'll have to do to protect her."
"One day, instead of stepping on insects to protect her, you may have to dirty your hands with blood."
"Will you be ready? Will you be ready to bask in sin for her? Will you reject your morals as a human, fully embracing the Nephilim you are, all to protect her?"
"To do so, you will have to shed that skin of yours to become something different—something with the power to change the dreadful futures that may come."
Gray sat on the sidewalk, staring at the neighborhood before him, his eyes narrowing.
Since it was Sunday and early in the morning, nobody was there, leaving him alone with his thoughts. But it was a good thing, for he didn't want, nor need their presence.
"I'm aware of what I'll have to do, Casanova," he interrupted.
I have always been.
He then took a deep breath. "Nonetheless, I must thank you for reaffirming my views and for helping me in deciphering what I've seen."
"You didn't call me to know what I've dreamt of, though, didn't you?"
Casanova, who was sitting on his velvet red couch, couldn't help but shift his position, his eyes narrowing at what the words he had just heard.
'Saying something and actually going through with it are two completely different things, young man. I'm curious to see if you'll say the same once a Nephilim is bloodied in front of you, begging for your mercy, blabbering about his or hers family and so on.'
'Will you have what it takes?'
"Come to the warehouse. There's something I need you to bring to a person I know. The details of his address are written there."
"Is it work equipment?" Gray stood up from the sidewalk and started to walk.
Casanova stood up from his couch, slightly raised the blinds of his window and bent down, observing the neighborhood.
"No, it's different than that. The details aren't for you to know, however," he said.
The complications of his silence could only mean one thing.
It regarded something supernatural, beyond his understanding!
"Does this mean that—?" Gray's eyes narrowed.
"Yes." Casanova interrupted him, affirming his suspicions.
"He's a Nephilim."
The young man's blood ran cold; he found himself shiver with anxiety.
From Casanova's description paired his own theories and paranoia-ridden observations, he thought of the Nephilim as horrific beings, heralds of death.
To think that Casanova, the one who became extremely tense after Gray had met a Nekare, a Nephilim like himself, would let him do something as dangerous as that…
Gray did his best to trust the man—like he always did.
If Casanova really wanted to harm him, what was even the point of even training him to begin with? He repeated this point in his mind, grabbing at it to remain sane.
Casanova smiled weakly.
He stared at his neighborhood, reminiscing of a certain past event, now unreachable.
"He's someone I trust; he wouldn't dare to harm you. However, I must warn you. He's someone who's rather…bizarre, even among our kind."
"Bizarre? In what kind of way?" Gray asked.
He was still worried, but knowing that Casanova trusted the man greatly made him feel better.
"He perceives our world in a way that is unimaginable to us." the man explained briefly.
'Is that his ability?'
"He's also rather chatty, so don't get worried if he asks you various questions. He means no harm, that's just how he is." Casanova continued, aware of Gray's paranoia.
"I understand." Gray sighed.
'Looks like there's nothing I can do… I will have to bring it'
…
Casanova opened one of the multiple doors of his blandly decorated house.
He had built the building all by himself, specifically in a way that would allow it to look as inconspicuous as possible, so that nobody would question him about his wealth, true occupation, and identity.
He want to seem as an every-man, a person capable of blending amidst society.
The man went downstairs towards an obscure hall and turned the lights on.
On the walls, there were multiple rifles, all appertaining to different time periods: an M1870 Italian Vetterli, an M1 Garand, a Mondragón M1894, and the prototype made by Alexei Sudayev, the AS-44.
He silently looked at the weapons for some moments.
"Not today," he said as he continued to walk.
He then opened the wardrobe at the end of the hall, seeing the famous SVDK Dragunov.
Casanova took it, placing it carefully on the ground.
He opened one of the drawers inside the same wardrobe, took the Beretta m9 laying on it, and holstered it.
Casanova then entered into the completely bare room at the end of the hallway, knelt down, and opened an hidden compartment on the floor.
Inside it, there was a large, black briefcase.
Casanova took it and silently retraced his steps, leaving his house.
…
Gray had just picked the briefcase Casanova wanted him to bring to his Nephilim-kin and was making his way towards the location that had been marked on a small slip of paper—Prince's Avenue was the name of the street.
Since he was pretty much unfamiliar with it, he was paying great attention to avoid getting lost.
He initially wanted to take the bus, but after checking the gps on his phone, he figured that waiting for it would take longer than just walking towards the destination.
'What kind of person will this man be? Casanova said he's rather chatty, but will it turn out to be true even for me, who's unknown to him?' he thought.
'Ahhh, these past two weeks were going so well… Sleeping was satisfying as it had always been; homework wasn't too bad too, since the greek's professor was apparently sick. We also didn't do our project because of that, so I didn't have to study it.'
The philosophy teacher, even though his colleague wasn't present, taught them about Anaximenes, the disciple of Anaximander, the last of the Milesian philosophers due to the destruction of the city by a part of the persian forces in the 494 BC.
Unlike his master, who thought of the Apeiron, the infinite, being the Arkhé, he believed that air was the basic element of the universe, where all things were created.
Although he believed that his master was wrong in thinking that the Apeiron was the true Arkhè, his reason being that it was completely different from the things in the world, he ended up giving air the same characteristics of the Apeiron.
Air after all is infinite, colorless, and everywhere.
He considered several basic elements as manifestations of air, from the least dense to the most dense: fire, air, wind, clouds, earth and stones.
Latter philosopher concluded that Anaximenes seemed to have based his theories on the processes of rarefaction and condensation, giving importance to the temperature change in the air, causing it to forming the events of matter.
Without air, fire can't exist. Without air, a man can't live.
For him, air gave the breath of life to the universe, and links it the human soul.
From this, Anaximenes explained that everything operates in the same principles in which things are held together, all guided by the gentle push of air.
…
After approximately ten minutes, Gray reached the street.
He quickly noticed that the houses, or rather, mansions were extremely beautiful. They had beautiful engravings of flowers, nature, and animals on their walls. Every single one of them was freshly painted.
The street was tremendously clean too. Even if he had wanted, Gray wouldn't have been able to find the tiniest speck of dirt amidst the neighborhood.
He walked around with the aid of his gps, and once he reached the house written on the address, he rang the doorbell, his hand trembling slightly.
After a couple of seconds, the door opened, and with it, a man appeared in Gray's field of view.
He was somewhat tall, maybe 1.87 meters, so he had to raise his head to look at the tanned man's face.
He was wearing a white shirt, made by a cotton-like material. And although it was a plain shirt, that, mixed with the sheer size of his house, made him think it was something tremendously expensive.
The man wore a white bandage on his face, and his eyes were fully covered by it.
'What the…?'
If eyes truly were the mirror of the soul, Gray wasn't able to see if the man, or rather, if the Nephilim possessed one, and it terrified him.
'Could he be blind?' he asked himself, trying to cope with his anxiety.
The man tilted his head in confusion, his long, brown hair cascading down.
After a few seconds of silence, he jolted, smiling warmly. "You must be the kid Casanova wanted me to meet, right?" he asked, his voice was deep, yet gentle.
"M-Meet? I thought he wanted me to bring you this…" Gray raised the suitcase Casanova had given him.
A silence echoed for a few seconds.
"Forgive me, it appears I've said something unnecessary," he chuckled.
"I'm Franz Kaldiri, it's a pleasure to meet you." he extended his hand. But Gray hesitated for a brief moment.
Gaining his composure back, he quickly stretched his arm out and shook hands with the strange—awfully human, Nephilim.
"I'm Gray, it's my pleasure too," he mustered an half-assed smile, not wanting to seem rude.
Franz stepped aside, outstretched his arm, and asked with a polite smile,
"Would you mind engaging in a conversation with me? Casanova told me many things about you, causing you to seem like an interesting young man. It would be a shame not to know you."
He hesitated once more, and this time, the man noticed.
"Don't worry, I won't eat you!" he snickered.
Gray shivered at the thought of it, but accepted his offer regardless, entering inside the Nephilim's house.
If the mansions in his neighborhood were considered beautiful, his was a thousand times better.
As soon as he entered, Gray was amazed to see a large circular staircase in the center of the entry hall, with a beautiful chandelier gracefully placed on top of it.
It's ledge was made by a material of which Gray was unaware of, and was patterned with vitreous flowers. They intertwined together, forming a chaotic, yet distinct image.
The walls were decorated by various, tremendously intricate and detailed oil paintings.
They depicted medieval-looking portraits; countries being torn by war; and many other theological paintings.
Franz Kaldir gestured for Gray to follow, and he nodded.
They climbed the circular stairs before traveling into various maze-like halls, venturing deeper and deeper into his house.
Franz apologized for the wait, but promised it would be worth it.
Gray trembled slightly after hearing his not-so straight looking words, but knew he had no choice.
He gripped the suitcase handle, his knuckles turning white.
After a couple of minutes, the strange Nephilim entered a cozy wooden room with only a small kitchen, a small table, and two chairs inside it.
He quickly moved the chair away from the table, and patted on it cushion, telling Gray to come and sit with him.
'The fact that he was able to transverse in his house so effortlessly is commendable, considering he's wearing a bandage on his eyes…But even then, to cope with the loss of sight, the senses of blind become heightened, so it might not seem as commendable as I make it up to be.'
"What drinks you prefer? I have some of the finest booze, if you long for it." Franz Kaldir sat down.
Gray did the same and politely refused his offer. "Sorry, I'm underage. I'm afraid I can't do something like that."
'I can hear Kathy fuming from here…'
"Don't apologize, it's no big deal," he laughed. "I have sodas, energy drinks, and pretty much every drink you can think of."
"A glass of water would suffice, thanks." Gray scratched his nose, embarrassed.
"Coming up!" Franz stood upright.
He quickly opened one the many cabinets and took two glasses, one made for drinking wine, and one for a more casual drinking experience.
He placed them in the dark-oak table and then, he grabbed a wine bottle, uncorked it skillfully, and poured the blood-like liquid in his glass.
Satisfied, he poured some water for his guest.
Only then did he sit with the young man.
Since the two sat near and in front of each-other, Gray couldn't help but feel slightly uncomfortable.
He silently drank his water as his host savored his drink, not knowing what to say, or expect from the conversation.
"So," Franz said, breaking the silence.
"How long has it been since you became a Nephilim?"